Breaking Wings
by TheFriendlyStranger
Summary: She needed the money, he figured adding another pilot to his enterprise couldn't hurt. She didn't want to get hooked on the supplies, but when you have a superior like Trevor Philips, sometimes things just don't turn out that way.
1. First Flight

**New story idea, new fandom. **

**Anyway, I'm not too sure when I am setting this. Though, I'll probably sort that out within the next chapter or so. I'm also not sure if this will be a Trevor/OC pairing, I'm not exactly the most romantic of writers. Then again, Trevor isn't exactly the most romantic of characters. Heh. Still, nonetheless, he'll be the main Canon character in this story anyway. **

**Feedback, as always, is greatly welcomed.**

* * *

**Please Note:** This story will contain strong language, drug use, and sexual situations. Other warnings will be tagged at the beginning of individual chapters.

* * *

**Breaking Wings**

**...**

**Chapter One**

_What in the _blue fuck _am I even doing? _

The woman let out a deep sigh at the thought, arms crossed tightly across her chest as she leaned against the side of her car. It was the same thought that crossed her mind maybe a hundred times since she set out for the..._welcoming_ and _scenic_ airfield of Sandy Shores. All she could really hope for was that the planes were in much better condition than the hangar, which made her more than a little anxious when looking at the rusted building. Then again, she _really_ should have expected it.

She allowed her head to roll up towards the sky, starting to feel her self disgust more than the heat at the moment.

_My grandpap is rolling in his grave knowing what I am doing with everything he taught me about flying..._

Drumming her fingers against the warm metal of her car's driver side door, she looked back down at the area around her. There was no doubt about it, she had hit rock bottom. Hell, if she had the figure and dancing skills, she would pick being a stripper over flying for some 'company' that she'd never even heard of. At least you couldn't touch the strippers, she doubted the union would be able to cover her while smuggling drugs and other items. It all came down to what drove the majority of society these days.

Money.

Plus, being able to fly once again was a rather nice bonus.

Still, she could have just been a simple store clerk or something. Instead she just threw her name, number, and skills out into some newspaper, hoping for _some_ form of employment. It was shortly after that she started getting messages from someone named Ron, who was looking for someone to fly for the enterprise he was part of. No phone calls, which was insisted upon, and, like an absolute idiot, she agreed after seeing what she would be getting paid.

She just needed to get through it, maybe keep at it for a few months or so, then maybe she could get out of it. It was going to be rather simple. All she had to do was meet this Ron guy, show him that she could indeed fly a plane, and hope that she doesn't mess it up. It was like any other job interview.

_Yeah, right, _she thought to herself with a chuckle, _I've never had a job interview where I had to stand out in a desert for an hour. I've never had a job interview for a company that specialized in fucking drug dealing. Maybe I can pretend that it's a legit business, with legit pay and benefits. _

What the fuck was she doing?

It was at that moment of '_fuck this_' that she almost fell over at the sudden appearance of a beat up red truck as it pulled into the airfield, nearly missing her car by only a few inches. The woman watched, eyes wide and arms hanging limply at her sides, as the vehicle pulled to a stop. A thin, balding, middle-aged man stepped out of the truck and shut the door with a slam. It suddenly felt like a million alarm bells were going off in her head, telling her to get into her car and get the hell out of there. Yet, she just remained planted to the spot.

The man turned to face her, striding towards her in a way that made the woman want to back away.

"You're Susan?" he demanded, pointing towards her slightly.

"It's, uh, Sam," she corrected, much more timidly than she had wanted. She couldn't help it, she felt like a deer in headlights and the man in front of her was quickly starting to make her regret the whole thing.

"Yeah, right. I don't have the time for idle fuckin' chit chat, alright? The hangar's this way."

He turned and headed towards the warn down hangar, Sam quickly walking after him, though making sure to keep some distance from him. Her heart was in her throat and the rational part of her brain was beating her senseless for getting herself into this.

"So, you're Ron, then?"

"No, I'm Trevor Philips, Ron is my CEO. You'd better not make the damn mistake of confusing the two of us again, understand?"

Sam just nodded her head, pausing as she watched him climb up onto the wing of the plane. Trevor paused, looking down at her as he opened the door to the cockpit.

"Fuck, do I have to direct everything you do? Get in the plane!"

She didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

It felt somewhat soothing to be doing something familiar, like she was a handful of years younger, listening to her grandfather talk about aviation and the planes he owned. The feeling of being airborne, the roar of the propellers, headset sitting snugly around her head, it was...nice. Then again, she really couldn't get into it all that much, what with the man sitting beside her, who was telling her where to fly, sprouting verbal abuses when she didn't do what he wanted or did something wrong. It made her grip the controls tightly and only seemed to build on the frustration that she had been carrying around for quite some time.

Though, she doubted that Trevor was the right person to take it out on.

They were gliding through a rather narrow space between two mountains when Trevor said something that wasn't a direction or warning that he would take the controls, which was usually followed by the threat of only one of them making it back.

"So, _Sam_," he said, almost overemphasizing her name, Sam not too pleased with him mocking her, "tell me how you learned to fly like a drunk."

"I don't fly like a drunk," Sam snapped, jarred slightly by a patch of turbulence that shook the plane rather harshly before it smoothed out again, "I've just never had to fly between mountains or had to deal with verbal abuse from a passenger."

"I'm not just some _passenger_," Trevor snapped back, "I am your future employer, and I'll damn well speak to my employees anyway I want to!"

"Yeah, well it doesn't exactly help my-"

Trevor interrupted her with a string of noises, shutting her up before he continued, "Just answer my question."

"My grandfather taught me," Sam answered, gritting her teeth as she worked on avoiding the rocky sides of the mountains.

"How _endearing_," he mocked her once again, "though, that does explain your flying."

"Hey! My grandfather was a great pilot!" Sam snapped back at him, "he remained as sharp as he always was, right up until his deathbed. What he taught me was solid and he had the mental clarity to keep it legit."

"Doesn't exactly make him the greatest pilot this country has ever seen, does it, Sammy?"

Sam tilted the plane to the left so that she could exit the narrow space, the mountains passing by into ocean as she let out an angry sigh.

"I wasn't saying that he was the best pilot to ever bless the skies, alright? I'm saying that my flying ability doesn't reflect his. Now, can you please tell me where to go? You know, unless you want me to continue flying off into the ocean so you can continue to irritate me enough to drop us _both into the fucking ocean!_"

Sam ended up raising her voice to a yell by the end, not really having control over what she was saying. She had expected Trevor to raise his, make use of some of his threats, yet she was rather surprised when a somewhat excited expression crossed his scarred face.

"Fuck yeah! That is what I was waiting for, I knew there was more to you than that 'Yes, sir' bullshit!"

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Sam muttered, shaking her head, "can you just tell me where we are going next?"

"That way," Trevor said, pointing off towards the left, "the airfield should be over in that direction, though you'll be crossing pretty close to a military base, so you'll have to keep us low."

"Military base?" Sam repeated, as if she was testing out the words, "are we in a fucking no fly zone!?"

"Not right now," Trevor said, sounding like he was starting to grow irritated with her once again, "only if we pass over the base. Though, if you want to take on the military, I am certain this plane can take on a few missiles and bullets. It would be the most noteworthy event of today, aside from huffing some gasoline this morning."

"Are you high right now?"

"Yes, though you're not exactly contributing to the buzz."

"For fuck's sake..." Sam whispered to herself, getting ready to get the hell out of the plane. Maybe if she hits enough objects Trevor will tell her to walk.

Or kill her.

That was certainly a plausible outcome.

* * *

The landing was sloppy, but she got the job done without hitting anything or destroying the plane. Once she taxied the plane into the hangar, she pulled the headset off and tossed it down onto the seat. Sliding down the wing and landing back onto the solid ground, she actually found herself glad to be on the ground again. She stuffed her hands inside the pockets of her jacket, glancing at Trevor as he walked out from the other side of the plane.

"You'll need some more work, but I would think of getting a place in Sandy Shores," Trevor said, "might be able to get you on your first outing by the end of the week."

"Wait, you're hiring me?" Sam asked, genuinely confused. _I thought he said I flew like a drunk..._

"No, I'm just going to give you a mission in hopes that you will fuck up my industry," Trevor said, turning to look at her, "yeah, I'm fucking hiring you. Now get out of my airfield, I'll contact if I need you."

Sam frowned, watching him walk off for a few moments before she started to walk back towards her own car. She scratched the back of her neck, muttering a few curses under her breath.

Well, she got what she came there for.

_Welcome to Trevor Fuckin' Philips Enterprises. _


	2. Second Flight

**Well, Happy Friday, or whatever day/time it is when you read this. I figured that I should get the next chapter out before the weekend hits. **

**I just want to say that I am very pleased with the response to this, thanks to all who reviewed, favourited, and followed. I hope that this and future chapters will be up to par. Though, please, don't be afraid to give me a slap upside the head if there is something that you really want me to fix up. **

**There's quite a bit of set up and character building in this chapter, so I'm sorry if it either feels somewhat rushed or too slow. Still, I hope you enjoy. **

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**Please Note: **This story will contain strong language, drug use, and sexual situations. Other warnings will be tagged at the beginning of individual chapters.

* * *

**Breaking Wings**

**...**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

_Hey, Auntie_

_You said you'd call us a few days ago, just wondering when that was going to happen. He doesn't show it all that much, but I think Grandpa is worried about you too. He checks his email and phone a lot more often now that you're out of the city. _

_Seriously, send him something. _

_Oh yeah, how did that job thing go? Did you get hired? How's your new boss? Are they stuck up? Is that the reason you aren't calling or replying anymore?_

_Just want to hear from you._

_- Eli _

* * *

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard on the screen of her phone, Sam reading over the message once again for the second time that day. Her nephew's typed words kept circling her head, like an angry and persistent flock of birds, attacking her more and more often the longer she kept closing the message without replying. It was the most frustrating thing, wanting to say something and yet not really knowing what.

She couldn't exactly tell him much, aside from an apology for not following through with her promise of a phone call, and telling him that she did get hired. Sam had probably typed up a number of versions of her reply, and they just got deleted. It was as it always was with Eli, she just couldn't really tell a lie to the kid. So, it left her just leaving the message with no reply and the hope that he wouldn't think that she just forgot about him.

_What the hell am I supposed to tell him? Yes, I am flying for a three man company. My boss is alright, if I push aside the fear of him that I am building up and the fact that he looks like he hasn't touched a bath in a few months, certainly smells like it too. _

"Fuck," Sam sighed, locking her phone once again and tucked it away in the back pocket of her jeans, still standing outside Trevor's trailer, leaning against his truck with her arms crossed. As if on cue, she heard the door to the trailer open, the man she was waiting for quickly bounding down the steps of his porch and walked towards his truck. He was still dressed in the stained and dirty white shirt that Sam was starting to believe was fused into his skin, she'd never seen him wear anything different. At least his pants were changed, wearing a pair of equally dirty jeans.

Pushing herself upright, Sam stepped aside to let him pass. "Good aftern-"

"Yeah," Trevor replied, pulling open the driver's door, "come on, get in. We have a job to do."

"In the back?" Sam asked, sounding like already knew the answer.

"Where else would I put you?"

Sam didn't reply to that as she hoisted herself up and over the side of the truck, shoving herself into the small space between the wheel and the front of the trunk behind the mockingly empty passenger seat. It was uncomfortable, sure, but at least it lowered her chances of bouncing over the side of the truck while driving down a rough patch of road. Apparently, the passenger seat in Trevor's truck was still out of the question for her while he still "wouldn't lose sleep" over knocking her over the side and having her head crack open.

"What's this job we have to do?" Sam asked after getting herself settled, watching Trevor as he started up his truck, a rock song filtering out of the radio. She raised her eyebrow slightly, she'd half been expecting a country song.

"There are two planes waiting for us a half hour from here, loaded up with weapons. We deliver the product to our respected clientele and get the job done in time for you to buy your next convenience store meal," Trevor replied, driving off down the sandy road, Sam holding onto the side of the truck for more support as she narrowed her eyes.

"I don't exactly see you funding a trip to the grocery store," Sam replied back, slamming her hand down against one of the bars of the truck to keep her from slamming her head against it.

"You haven't exactly done anything either," Trevor said back, "what the fuck do I look like? A charity? I'm not paying you for sitting around on your ass for a week in some shitty motel."

"Fuck you!"

"Is that an offer? I'd let you sit in the passenger seat with the promise of getting my boy sucked!" Trevor exclaimed, giving her a look out of the corner of his eye. Sam shot him a disgusted look, wrinkling up her nose at the thought.

"You'd have better luck saddling up a coyote and riding it into Los Santos," she muttered, her comment going unheard over the engine and the music, though the look on her face made her answer to that offer very clear.

On a better day, Sam would have just rolled her eyes at the comment, though having spent almost a week sitting in a stuffy and small motel room didn't leave much to her patience. At least there was the idea of getting some sort of payment out of this job, apparently flying around and doing drops with a man by the name of Oscar wasn't worthy of a payday. Testing of skills or something like that.

It didn't really help the fact that she had been trying to type up a reply to her nephew's email everyday without much success, as much as she wanted to vent to somebody about the newest pest in her life. Sam clenched her eyes shut as Trevor's truck swerved, cutting off another driver, who responded in the only way they could, honking.

Sam wouldn't be as annoyed with the people around her if she wasn't sleep deprived and forming a bruise on her ass.

* * *

If there was one thing that she could rely on about Trevor, it was his word. He had said there would two planes waiting for them, and there were two planes. He said they would be leaving without trouble, there was no trouble to be found. He said his plane was flyable, his plane worked just fine.

Sam's, on the other hand...

"I'm starting to become concerned about an engine here," Sam said an hour into the drops, her gaze flickering between Trevor's plane and the light on her board. So far, the engine seemed to be working pretty solidly, though the warning was glaringly obvious and now was starting to eat away at her confidence.

"Is it still working?" Trevor's voice filtered in through her headset, Sam gripping the controls tightly as she pulled up higher to match his height.

"Yes."

"Then you'll be fine. Ron may jump at the smallest things, but at least he complains less than you do," he remarked, causing Sam to grit her teeth as she glanced back down at the engine once again. She didn't really know if it was her paranoia, but she could have sworn that it looked to be spinning slower than the other one.

She followed after Trevor for a while still, praying her hardest that the engine wouldn't give out. Though, once it started to smoke and eventually started to still for a few moments before spinning back to life again, panic was growing rather quickly in her gut. It was only a minute or so before the right engine finally gave out and stopped spinning altogether.

"Shit, shit!" Sam gasped, feeling the plane starting move without her consent. "My right engine is out, left engine warning light has just come on."

"Are you fucking with me right now?"

"Yeah, I'm laughing up a fucking storm over here," Sam growled, flicking a switch to deploy the landing gear, "I'm not taking any chances, I'm landing anywhere I can. Hopefully I can keep your precious cargo intact."

"I'm going to have to come and fucking rescue you?" Trevor's angry voice filled her ears as Sam kept her eyes on the ground ahead of her, steering her plane towards an open area.

_If you can find the time, asshole, _she thought to herself, biting her tongue as she wasn't all too certain she wanted to set him off further than she already had.

"Yes," she said with a sigh, "there's a somewhat flat area to the left of me, I'm landing there."

There was no reply from Trevor, which Sam wasn't sure if she feared more than his response. She managed to aim her plane towards the area, which was basically running on already built up speed and scared, half completed prayers of a safe landing. Sam gripped the controls in her shaking hands, guiding her plane down towards the ground, sweat breaking across her face. She could feel the blood rushing through her temples, her heart beating in her chest.

_This is all going to fucking shit! _She thought angrily, clenching her jaw as the ground was steadily rising up to greet her plane. She was scared, and the odd thing was that it wasn't of the landing of her plane, but of the second plane. There was part of her that wanted to start to beg for forgiveness, like she was ten years younger, crying to her father about some wrong she had done, yet a sense of dignity and just general stubbornness kept her mouth shut.

Sam felt the jolt of the plane landing, her speed dropped down so much that it was probably the smoothest landing that she had ever done. Though, she couldn't really bring herself to be proud of it or the fact that she had even landed at all.

"_Fuck me_," she gritted out after pulling the headset off of her head and shut off the plane's broken engines. She stood, glancing behind her at the small pile boxes that remained. Luckily, she had taken the first drop, so there was a small hope that Trevor's plane could hold a few more boxes. She quickly scooped up one of the boxes, pushing open one of the doors to the plane and climbed out, placing it down on the ground as she heard the dull roar of engines approaching. She climbed back up into her plane, grabbing another box and started to unload her cargo.

She watched as the other plane touched down after a minute or so, skidding across the ground before it stopped. Sam, overwhelmed by the cowardly urge to hide, quickly climbed back up into her plane to grab the one of the last few boxes inside, not wanting to watch Trevor get out and stalk over to her. She had only known the man barely a week, met with him only twice, and he had already intimidated her into a cowardly little girl.

Sam placed the box down onto the ground, slightly out of breath as she stood up to her full height, glancing over at Trevor as he approached her. Anger was clearly written into his body language, the tense arms and quick paced walk.

"You," he said, Sam glancing away from him for a few moments as she ran a hand through her black hair, "are starting to become much more trouble than you're _fucking_ worth."

"I know," she said softly, looking back at him, "I'm sorry."

For a few moments, she thought that he just might strike her. She went as far as to mentally steel herself for it, but she watched as he seemed to restrain himself, an actual growl escaping him before he bent down and picked up one of the boxes with more aggression than needed.

"Load up this shit and get in the plane," he said, Sam doing exactly that without as much as a breath of complaint. Though, internally, part of her was cursing her out for being so cowardly, while the other felt like she was doing a march of shame. In part, she was. She did just, technically, get scolded by her superior.

She'd also half expected him to tell her to sit in the back with the cargo, so he could drop her off with the weapons.

_I don't even know why I care, _she thought to herself, carrying a box towards his plane, _it's not like I broke my own plane. _

She also couldn't understand why she cared enough to feel bad for letting him down, or why she really wanted to earn the right to sit in the passenger seat of his shitty truck.


	3. Over Beers

**Alright, a lot of talking in this chapter, but next chapter shouldn't be so dialogue driven. Once again, thanks for all the response to this and I hope you all enjoy this new chapter. I'm not too sure on my characterization of Trevor in this chapter, but I think it worked out alright. **

* * *

**Please Note:** This story will contain strong language, drug use, and sexual situations. Other warnings will be tagged at the beginning of individual chapters.

* * *

**Breaking Wings**

**...**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

_Hey, Nephew _

_I'm so sorry that I haven't replied to you. It's been a very busy week for me, as you can probably imagine. Whole new situation, boss, everything. My boss? He's an interesting man, I guess. Likes the simpler things. Please, tell your grandfather that I'm fine, I'll send him an email when I am able. I'll try and visit when I have an opening, but things seem a little tight right now. _

_I love you too, buddy. _

_- Aunt Sam_

* * *

Her cellphone landed on the table with a clatter, Sam placing the warm box that contained the night's meal inside down beside her phone. She ran a hand through her wet hair, her shirt feeling heavier around the shoulders where the rain had soaked through her jacket. There was an unsettling tingle in her spine, her patience growing thinner with every passing moment.

"I thought you were pissed off at me," she said after a few moments, flicking open the cardboard box beside her and looked down at her chosen food for the night. It was some sort of burrito thing that honestly looked more appetizing in the store. She glanced back at her companion, who had made himself quite at home in her motel room, lounged out on the bed, muddy boots and all.

"Oh, I'm still pissed off at you, Sammy," Trevor said, using that _damn_ nickname that Sam couldn't help but frown at. "I'm taking that plane out of your cut, even if the both of them are pieces of shit."

"That's..." Sam turned back to the table, pressing her lips together slightly before continuing, "fine by me. Still doesn't explain why you're here."

"What? I can't fucking spend some time with my new associate?" Trevor asked, flicking through the channels of the television, pressing the buttons on the remote rather aggressively, "We're going to be seeing quite a bit of each other, so you might as well quit being a rude bitch."

"I wasn't aware I was being a rude bitch," Sam said, pulling apart the burrito, watching the contents from the side she was holding fall out, a frown on her face, "it's just odd behavior from someone who threatened to disembowel me not even a few hours ago."

"That threat still stands," Trevor said, "rudeness pisses me off even more, so maybe you should be a little more fucking friendly."

"Fine," Sam said, tossing the side of her meal back into the box and walked away from the table, sitting herself down in the arm chair across from the bed. She watched as Trevor mulled through the channels on the television, not staying on a channel long enough for anything to grab his attention before he shut it off and tossed the control down on the bed.

"What do you have to drink around here?" he asked as he stood from the bed and walked towards the table.

"Beer's warm," Sam said, leaning her elbow on the armrest of the chair, tucking her hand under her chin, "or you can take a drink from the shower, that's about it. You can have that burrito stuffed with road kill, if you want."

Trevor seemed to disregard the rest of her comment after she mentioned the beer. He pulled a bottle out of the case, using the edge of the table to crack it open before he took a swig out of it.

"So, tell me about the world of Sammy," he said as he sat back down on the bed, facing her this time as he studied the label on the bottle. Something told her that he wasn't a stranger to cheap beer.

"The world of Sammy..." she echoed, raising an eyebrow, "well, first off, I _hate_ the nickname Sammy. Nobody has called me that since I was knee high and still needed help getting up on the swings at the playground."

"What's your name, then?"

"Sam, you know that-"

"No, no," Trevor said, pointing the neck of his beer bottle towards her, "full name."

"Samantha," Sam said, blinking at him with a bored expression. She had to fight off the urge to sigh when he wanted the rest of the name, making her press her hand against her cheek and look away from him like he was admitting some dark and shameful secret.

"Fitzpatrick," she said, turning to look back at him with a small smile.

"Fitzpatrick?" Trevor asked, "well, then it's settled, I'm calling you Fitz."

"Please, don't."

Trevor leaned back against the headboard, putting his feet up once again, "So, what else is there? Aside from the name Sammy and flying."

"Well, uh," Sam started as she tapped her fingers against her thigh, "I have a nephew, Eli, who lives with me. Well, he _used_ to. He now lives with my father until I can get him into a home without the threat of eviction. He's a smart kid, loves chemistry."

"Then why didn't you bring him with you?" Trevor asked, "He could be cooking meth for me, he'll be around all the chemistry he could ask for."

"He's _thirteen_," Sam snapped, getting defensive. She already hated herself for agreeing to fly for Trevor's company, she couldn't even bare the thought of Eli getting that deep into it.

She couldn't exactly tell Trevor that, though.

"When he's older, than! It'd be better than fucking abandoning him."

"I didn't _abandon_ him," she said, her tone biting as she leaned forward in her seat more, "Hell, I was the one who changed his diapers, dealt with the tantrums, _and_ gave up my early adulthood for him. I left him with my father so I could come down here and earn some money so I wouldn't _have_ to abandon him. Just...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even brought him up."

"Whatever," Trevor remarked, taking another few gulps from the beer before he tossed the bottle. It landed on the edge of the bed, whatever little contents it had inside spilling onto the blanket and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

"I have to sleep in that bed tonight, you know," Sam said, her tone was supposed to be annoyed, but she just sounded tired. Trevor, in her mind, was starting to become one of those people she couldn't spend more than a few hours with a day.

Maybe every two days, even.

"A little dirt isn't the worst thing you could find in this motel's beds," Trevor said, "overpriced shit hole. I can't understand why you would hole yourself up in here. I have a couch, Ron has a couch. At least you wouldn't be by yourself, rotting away in front of this television. No wonder you didn't pull your fucking weight today."

"Okay, well, the plane's engines _failed_. I landed it and managed to get back on course with little time lost, though I am sorry for costing you a new plane that you admitted was a piece of shit. Also, I haven't even met Ron, and you think that your trailer is better than-"

"Hey!" Trevor shouted, sitting up fully, "I know my trailer is no fucking Vinewood Hills mansion, but at least I don't charge people for sleeping in shit. I offer up my home to you and you throw it back in my face, I thought you were done with the rude bitch routine."

"I didn't even know that you were offering me a place to stay," Sam said, raising her hands slightly, anxiety about a confrontation with the man replacing any sort of relaxed sleepiness that she had been feeling, "I thought you were venting about the motel. If I don't have to pay for a room, I'd be..." she seemed to struggle a little bit, like her brain was telling her to slow down and _think_ for once, "happy to stay with you or Ron. Once again, I'm sorry for being a bitch."

"I'm starting to think you get off to me getting angry at you," Trevor said, laying back down as Sam started to relax slightly at the change in his tone, "you apologize then go back to doing the same shit over and over again."

"I don't _get off_ on your anger, I'm not aroused by terror," Sam said, rubbing the side of her face, "you don't like it when I don't tell you what I am thinking, and then you get angry at me when I do. You're really nerve wracking, you know that?"

"That's good, it keeps you on your toes," Trevor said, "you look like someone who hasn't even _lived_. Forget the money, you're down here because it thrills you, right Fitz?"

"Yeah, I'm just...overjoyed to be here," Sam said with a sigh, resting her head against the palm of her propped up hand and shut her eyes for a few moments.

"You're seriously sleeping in the chair?" she heard Trevor asked after a few moments, making Sam pull open her eyes. She had no idea how late it was, but if the darkness outside was any confirmation, she could guess it was pretty late. Though, the rain didn't really help.

"I'm exhausted," Sam said, looking back over at him, "if I was sitting in the bath, I'd probably fall asleep there too."

"It's not even two," Trevor said, sounding irritated, "you know, if you started taking meth, you'd get the motivation to get your shit together."

"I always thought meth would pull my shit further apart," Sam said, sitting up more, allowing herself to wake up again.

"Nah, you _need_ it, chick," he said, Sam raising her eyebrows slightly, "you're so fucking meek! You're so timid that you probably wouldn't hit a rabid dog if it was pulling your fucking leg off."

"And _meth_ will fix this? Of all things?"

"You bet your thin little ass it will! Employees get their first hit free."

Sam stared at him, her mouth would probably be hung open if her hand wasn't under her chin, "That's, uh, good that you offer benefits to your employees, but I came here to fly planes, _nothing_ else. I just need to...I don't fucking know, come out of my shell or something."

"Yeah, you do. You're as depressing as shit," Trevor said, watching as Sam stood from the chair and walked towards the table again, pulling out a warm beer for herself. She popped it open, taking a few large gulps, wincing at the bitter taste as she walked back to her chair.

She'd been planning on breaking into the case, she figured there was no better time.

* * *

"Ron!"

Trevor's voice made the woman flinch, who stood in the front yard of his trailer, looking down at the various junk he had laying around. Sam frowned, a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes so the sun didn't hurt them too much, water bottle in her hands, as she was attempting to nurse the last of the mild hangover she had. The motel room wasn't in any better shape, beer bottles on the nightstand beside the bed, a few thrown about the room courtesy of her drinking buddy the night before.

Sam couldn't really remember what else had happened after she had started drinking, there was more talking, and at some point television was watched. Part of her remembered watching porn, though the memory wasn't exactly clear. She almost felt bad about the cleaning people that would be coming around, though she gathered that the extra money that she had to pay went towards that.

_At least, I hope it is going towards that..._

"Ronald! I better not have to come and fucking get you!" Trevor continued to yell towards the trailer across from his, standing on the porch. Sam was about to interrupt him, she didn't really _need_ to meet Ron, though the words died on her tongue when the door to the far trailer swung open. A man stepped out, nearly tripping over himself as he looked over at the irate man calling for him.

"T-Trevor? What is-" he started, but was cut off as Trevor pointed down towards Sam.

"You got a woman to come down here to work with you and you don't even bother to meet her?" Trevor asked, his voice lower than it was before, though the anger was still very present.

"I-I thought you said that you wanted to meet the pilot yourself, s-so I just assumed that-"

"Hey! I didn't ask for a fucking excuse, it's been a week. Now come and shake her hand, you rude fuck!"

"Look, it's-" Sam started, but she was cut off by Ron, who nodded his head.

"Alright, T-Trevor," he said, quickly walking across the yard towards Sam, who looked only a few moments away from snapping at somebody as she took a drink from her water bottle. She held out her hand as the frightened looking man approached her, gripping her hand in his shaking one and shook.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Ron," he said, Sam giving him a quick smile.

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you, Ron, I'm Sam," she said, withdrawing her hand as she watched Ron look back up at Trevor, most likely for approval. Ron's face, too, was scarred, obvious signs that he used the products that they were selling.

_Is it some fucking guideline of Trevor's that you have to be an addict in his company? _

"Now that we have that settled," Trevor said as he looked over at Sam, "here's your pay for the job yesterday. Catch."

Sam stumbled forward to catch the bundle of money that he had thrown, managing to catch it before it hit the ground, though the other object missed her waiting hand. A frown crossed her face as she bent down to pick it up, weighing the bag in her hands, looking at the white powder that was inside it.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, her voice low.

"What the hell do you think it is?" Trevor replied, mocking her tone of voice as he walked down towards her and Ron.

"I said I didn't want this," Sam gritted out through a clenched jaw, her fingers gripping the bag tightly.

"I'm giving you that for free, even after you cost me a fucking plane yesterday," Trevor said, walking up close to her, making Sam take a step back, "I know you are rude, but you're fucking ungrateful too?"

"I'm not-" Sam stopped herself, taking a deep breath before continuing again in a more calm tone of voice, "I'm not trying to be ungrateful, I just don't _need_ this right now."

"Then don't take the fucking drugs right now," Trevor said, walking past her and motioned for Ron to follow him as he walked towards his truck. Sam let her arms drop to her side, hitting her thighs as she gritted her teeth once again.

"Fucking bullshit," she muttered to herself, stalking back off towards her car, debating on throwing the drugs onto the ground.

_He'll probably find it, and then what? I can't stand up to him now, I won't be able to then as well. _

She wanted to go back up to Los Santos, see Eli again and talk with her father.

Sam wasn't a teenager anymore, she wouldn't be pressured into taking drugs because some fucking asshole was intimidating her. She would spend her last paid night at the motel, flush the drugs and not bring them up again.

It was just that simple.


	4. Catherine

**Here is chapter four, I hope you all enjoy. Please, don't be shy to leave me your thoughts, bad or good. **

* * *

**Please Note:** This story will contain strong language, drug use, and sexual situations. Other warnings will be tagged at the beginning of individual chapters.

* * *

**Breaking Wings**

**...**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

"_Sit down." _

_A shiver ran down her spine at his familiar voice, a tone that she had gotten used to hearing directed towards her sister, but it was rarely directed at her. Her hand gripped at her sweater, just above her stomach, into a tight fistful of fabric. She took a moment to glance at her sister, Catherine, who looked at her hopefully. _

_Sam quickly looked down at the carpeted floor as she walked towards the sofa where her sister was sitting, some items resting on the small table in front of the couch. She didn't look her father in the face, she instead watched him pace, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn't say anything for the first minute or so, just pacing, as Sam looked down at her lap and Catherine followed his movement without pause, her eyes innocent. Their father always used this tactic when either of his children had done wrong. _

_The pacing alone was enough for Sam to break under the pressure, and she almost wanted to at that moment, but she promised. Catherine needed this, she played the sibling card and Sam just couldn't really say no this time. _

"_What the hell is this?" her father finally said after more moments of silence, his hand pointing down to the item on the table, wrapped in plastic. _

"_It's weed," Catherine said, shrugging. _

_Sam glanced up at her sister, her eyes flicking from Catherine's calm face and her father's stern one. She shrunk back slightly when his gaze landed on her's for a few moments, his mouth pressed into a thin line, anger written all over his face. _

"_Did you know of this, too, Samantha?" _

"_Y-Yes," Sam said quickly, nodding her head. Her father narrowed his eyes at her, though not in anger, but what appeared to be in confusion. _

_She knew this would never pass by her father, the hawk of the family. He knew both his children better than they knew themselves, sometimes. Catherine was manipulative, Sam was malleable. All she needed was the right amount pressure to be bent in whatever way was needed. Sure, she knew her values and facts, but if Catherine told her the sky was purple, Sam would still see it as blue, though she might end up convincing herself that it was a purplish blue. Catherine asked her to take the hit for their father finding the weed in her room, out of sibling love and "owing her one", Sam agreed that she would. She loved her sister, even looked up to her when she was younger, before the parties and drugs._

_Sam owed her nothing, though. It was actually the other way around, Catherine owed her many things, many favors. She had pulled Catherine out of a number of issues before, and, sadly, would most likely continue to do so. _

"_How did you get this, then?" her father asked, glancing over at Catherine, "when I found it in her room..." _

"_I-I asked for her to hide it for me," Sam said, not meeting his gaze, rubbing the back of her neck, "she's always getting in trouble for things like that, so I thought that it would be a good idea to hide it in her room. I thought she would get in trouble for it...I'm sorry." _

"_I can't believe this," her father stated, narrowing his eyes and turning to Catherine, "you would attempt to hand off your mistake on your sister?" _

"_What?" Catherine asked, her eyes widening as her voice grew sharp in anger and defensiveness, "you're still blaming me? She just admitted-" _

"_Do you think I am stupid?" her father snapped, "She can barely finish a wine cooler on the holidays, do you honestly think that she would smoke _your_ weed?"_

_Catherine's mouth hung open slightly, like she was offended by the fact that she had been caught in a lie. She started to say something, but her father just shook his head at her and pointed down the hall where the bedrooms were located. _

"_Go, I'll deal with you later," he stated, Catherine casting an angry glance down at Sam, who felt bad for letting her sister down, yet there was also the light feeling of relief that she wouldn't have to deal with her sister's mistake. _

"_You," her father said, bringing Sam back to him once again as Catherine disappeared down the hall, arms tense at her sides, "grow a damn backbone. You're going to let people intimidate and manipulate you into doing things for the rest of your life? If that's the case, I would hate to see where you are in ten years." _

_Sam watched, her eyebrows furrowing and frown deepening, as her father walked off as she pushed her thumbs together in thought._

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait," an amused voice filtered out of the speaker of her cellphone, Sam leaning against the side of her car in the parking lot of the motel. "So, you left my son with our father? For how long? He could become one of those boys with the perfectly combed hair, tucked in shirts, and ramrod straight backs."

"How would you know he isn't one of those kids already?" Sam asked, flicking through the last of her bills from her deposit into her father's account for Eli, trying to figure out her diet for the week and where she would be sleeping. "You don't exactly visit, Catherine."

"I'm a stranger to him, you're his mother for all he knows," Catherine replied, though her voice softened slightly at the admittance, "thanks for shoving it in my face, though."

"I'm sorry," Sam said with a sigh, she really didn't feel like fighting with her sister, as much as the both of them knew it was true, "I need a filter or something."

"So, why is Eli with _Daddy_ anyway?" Catherine asked, sounding like she was unsure she wanted to touch upon the subject, "Did something happen?"

"I'm having some money problems," Sam said softly, looking around her to make sure that there wasn't anybody ease dropping, "I, uh, went off the deep end."

"Deep end?" Catherine echoed, sounding amused once again, "what _is_ your deep end? Stealing food from convenience stores and selling it yourself? Making paper air planes down at the pier?"

"Fuck you, I'm being serious," Sam snapped at her, narrowing her eyes.

"Alright, alright," Catherine said, sounding like she was holding back a chuckle, "how deep are we talking?"

"'Moving down to Sandy Shores and selling drugs', kind of deep," Sam said softly, crossing her arms. There wasn't a reply from Catherine for a few moments, Sam starting to wonder if she lost connection, but she heard a sigh from the other end after a few more moments.

"That's...wow. Does Dad or Eli-"

"No, no. You honestly think Dad would let me go if I told him? They think I got a job opportunity a few hours from Los Santos."

"So, you're selling drugs?"

"Well..." Sam said, pushing herself off the side of her car, "not _really_. I'm flying for this...company, doing weapon drops and shit."

"_Company?_" Catherine asked, sounding disbelieving, "Are you working for some drug lord with branches all over the state or...?"

"It's a three man company, so I've been told," Sam said softly, "though, my boss treats it like a legit business. He has an airfield and everything, though he's living out of a trailer and said airfield isn't exactly...high end."

"Shit, Sam," Catherine said softly, sounding almost distressed, "why are you exactly telling me this? Did you want me to send some cops up there or...?"

"No, seeing as I would probably be arrested right alongside my _associates_," Sam said, shaking her head, "I don't think I would want to be around my boss once he figures that out. I just...you used to be into this shit, I thought you would be a good person to talk to."

"Sam, there is a difference between _taking_ the drugs and _selling_ them," Catherine said, sounding irritated, "I'm not into that stuff anymore, anyway. Are you in trouble right now? Do you need to come up to Los Santos? My home is always open. You can hide out there..."

"I don't need to hide anywhere," Sam said, "I need the money. As much of a mistake this can become, it does pay good."

"Fuck, I'd rather you work for LifeInvader than up in Sandy Shores where you'll probably die," Catherine stated, sounding firm.

"You hate LifeInvader."

"That's my point, dumbass."

Sam blew out some air through her mouth, rubbing the back of her neck as she looked down into her car. She knew that she still had the package with her, stuffed into the glove compartment. She had been hoping for some "out of sight, out of mind" thing to happen, but there was part of her that kept getting drawn back to the glove compartment. She pressed one hand against the hot roof of her car, looking off down towards the highway up to Los Santos.

"Can you tell me a drug horror story or something?" she asked after a few moments, frowning.

"Fuck you," Catherine snapped, sounding angry, "You got yourself into this shit, you need to get yourself out. I can tell you all the horror stories you want, but it will mean fuck all if you don't do anything about your situation. Think about my son, your nephew. How will all of this effect him once he finds out? My door will be open for you, I'll be hoping you show up on my doorstep rather soon. Let's just hope you don't have an addiction by that point, Sam."

"Fuck you, too!" Sam exclaimed, "You didn't even raise your own kid, you have no idea what it's like to do this shit for Eli-"

"You could have done the responsible thing and got an actual job to support him," Catherine interrupted, "stop making fucking excuses, or you'll do so while you take your first hit, and I'm sure you'll continue to do so once your fucking teeth start to fall out. Call me back after you get some sense, huh?"

The line went dead.

"Shit," Sam hissed, hitting the top of her car. She knew, deep down, that she agreed with Catherine. Still, there was the part of her that felt like she _needed_ to stay. _Was_ it the thrill? Sam shook her head, tapping her fingers against the top of her car. There wasn't anything really _thrilling_ about this, nothing that she had done so far had given her a rush, aside from flying planes. That was something she always liked to do, though, so she doubted that it was because she was doing something illegal with them. She stared at the passenger seat, her eyebrows furrowing. She had to admit, she was curious. Sure, she ended up getting drunk on a number of occasions as she grew up, even smoked weed once or twice, but she never thought of even touching anything so...heavy.

She was far enough away from Trevor, she could dig a hole and bury the drugs without much of a problem. It still wouldn't stop him from asking or bothering her about it. There was also the fact that she was running low on funds again, having to pay for the motel and sending the majority of it back to Los Santos.

_I do have a place I could stay, though..._she thought to herself, _I can head back to Los Santos and stay with Catherine, there's also Trevor._

She frowned at the second option. Rooming with two meth heads wouldn't exactly put any relief on the drug situation, especially if one of them was currently the one intimidating her enough to consider just taking the drugs so he would let her be about it.

_I need sleep. _

Sam jumped slightly when her phone vibrated, a humorless laugh escaping her mouth when she noticed just who had texted her.

"Speak of the Devil..." she whispered to herself as she opened up the message, the lack of capitols and spelling errors threw her off a little bit, but she managed to decipher it.

"What the fuck does he want me to get a gun for?"

* * *

"Are you sure this is the best idea, Trev?" Ron asked as he watched Sam look down at the pistol in her hands, weighing it and flipping it over like she had never even seen one before. "I-I mean, she's just a pilot. Do we really need the back up?"

"I agree," Sam piped up, holding out the pistol towards Trevor, who looked like he was moments away from snapping at the both of them, "Look, you want me to fly a plane? I'll fly a plane. I've never shot a pistol, or any gun. I'll most likely end up shooting myself in the foot before I shoot anything else."

"Are you two _trying_ to piss me off?" Trevor asked, "We aren't taking out a whole _operation_, just a few fucks who think they can cook and sell meth in _my_ county. They are in a trailer, for fuck's sake."

"Then why the extra person?" Sam asked, raising her arms up towards him slightly, "you seem pretty damn confident, I'm sure you and Ron can take care of it."

"I thought we were forming a bond," Trevor said, narrowing his eyes, "you'd fucking leave me over a _pistol_."

"You barely know me, we've known each other for week, half of which we weren't even in contact," Sam remarked dryly, steadily feeling like she was losing this battle again. "_I can't shoot._ I don't know how much clearer I can get. You got me down here to fly planes, I'm flying planes. You want someone to shoot up some competition? You'll have to find someone else. Take your gun back. Please."

"You're my employee," Trevor said, stepping down from his truck, "You'll do whatever the fuck I need you to do. You think Ron here was good at flying planes? No. I made him fly them anyway. Now get in the fucking truck, I won't tell you again."

Sam narrowed her eyes at him, her free hand tightening up into a fist. She gritted her teeth together so hard that she could hear them grinding, her heart racing in her chest. Trevor wasn't getting back into the truck, he was challenging her to challenge him. Sam wanted to throw the gun down at his feet and tell him to fuck off, but she caught Ron turning around to look at the two of them as the silence seemed to stretch on for more than a few moments.

She could feel the word 'no' forming, almost slipping out, but she bit it back. Sam, as much as she wanted to get into his face and vent her frustrations out to him, the whole situation only giving Catherine's words even more impact, she was still very terrified of the man across from her. This wasn't just a broken plane, she was outright defying him. She raised her free hand, like she was attempting to talk down a snarling dog, and she felt it would be about as effective. She'd still end up finding herself being backed into a corner.

"I'm telling you," she said, her voice wavering slightly, "there is really no use bringing me along. I don't even know how to turn the safety off this thing, for Christ's sake. If you want me to go shooting up some meth labs with you, I have to learn how to fucking use this first."

"She has a point, Trevor," Ron said, sounding like he was very hesitant to even interject into the conversation, "these guys, you even said that they won't be hard to take out. Y-You don't need to bring along backup, especially someone who would just be a liability-"

"Shut up," Trevor snapped at Ron, who sunk back in his seat and did as he was told. Trevor strode towards Sam, who's eyes widened slightly and left leg moved back slightly, as if she was getting ready to run. Though, Trevor just swiped the pistol from her hands, cocking the gun with a click and looked back up at her.

"It's simple, you point," he aimed the gun towards his front yard, "and shoot."

Sam flinched at the bang that erupted from the pistol, Trevor tucking the pistol away as he looked back at her.

"I'm giving you the chance to show your worth, as you haven't exactly done that yet, but if you don't want to accept that either, then, well, _fuck you too_," he said, Sam stepping away from him slightly at his tone of voice, "Los Santos has some good shooting ranges, learn how to shoot. You have a week, and you better fucking return or-"

"I will," Sam said with a nod, "I'll learn how to shoot and-"

"Yeah, get the fuck out of here, unless you want to continue to piss me off," Trevor said, turning and walking back to his truck with angry strides, slamming the driver door shut as Sam let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. As she turned to head back towards her car, she got the odd sensation of wanting to break down into tears. Forget surviving a month in Trevor's presence, she could barely handle a week.

_At least I get to go to Los Santos, _she thought to herself with a sigh, _I can attempt to ease Eli and my father, and I'll give Catherine a visit. _

If she would even return or not, well, that was something she would have to decide on.

So far, she was seriously considering taking this opportunity to start pumping her legs and_ run_.


	5. Los Santos

**Alright, BIG note about last chapter! After rereading for errors, I decided that I did not like the direction the story had taken. So, I went back and edited. I would strongly advise to jump back and reread just the ending bit of last chapter, if you haven't already. I didn't change all that much about the first part aside from a few word choices and sentences, so you don't have to read the whole chapter again. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but you probably won't have an idea what is going on in this chapter without doing so. **

**This might be the last chapter from me until holidays are over, so I'm sorry if you end up waiting for updates. **

**About this chapter, it's a lot more OC driven than my other ones, so I'm sorry if you were hoping for more Trevor this chapter. There will be a lot more of him in the next, I promise. Also, Sam, she's not a strong character, as you've probably already seen. I am trying to 'fix' this little by little as I go, but I feel that her weakness is important to a future arc. **

**I'm going to stop talking. Happy Holidays if I don't get to say it. :)**

* * *

**Please Note: **This story will contain strong language, drug use, and sexual situations. Other warnings will be tagged at the beginning of individual chapters.

* * *

**Breaking Wings**

**...**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

"So, you've come back?" her father asked, his tone indifferent, but Sam could clearly see the relief on his face. She had hoped that her vague job opportunity outside of Los Santos would be enough not to worry her father, but it was apparent that he did worry about what she was doing.

She wanted to rub the back of her neck when she noticed his dark eyes taking in her clothing, which was worn, dirty, and probably didn't help in convincing him that he shouldn't be worried.

"Only for a few days," she said after a few moments, her father stepping aside to let her into his home. While he lived fairly close to the city, he never seemed to get too involved in the hypes and trends that seemed to change on a weekly basis. The house was obviously not the one Sam had grown up in, at least for the part where she was living with her father. There was a good couple years where she lived with her grandparents, it was a slower and easier lifestyle out with them, one Sam seemed to miss as the years went on.

"Is Eli...?" Sam started, gesturing towards the back of the house, her father closing the door softly behind her and walked past her slightly.

"He's here," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her, "a phone call or message telling me that you would be dropping by would have been nice."

"The opening was sudden," Sam said, shrugging as she stuck her hands in her pockets. "I told Eli that I was coming, I thought he would pass the message on."

"I'm lucky if the kid greets me in the morning," her father muttered, "what with that video game you bought him before you left. All that mindless slaughtering, it will rot his brain. Forget about collage, he will be out shooting up stores by the time he is thirty."

"Eli has a good head on his shoulders," Sam said, chuckling slightly, "I'm sure he is able to figure out what is game and what is reality. I'll tell him to give it a rest, for your peace of mind."

"Do whatever you feel is best, you are his parent," her father muttered, turning down a hall as Sam stood in the living area, her arms crossed. She glanced around, taking in a familiar furniture. Some she could recognize from her own childhood, while others were obviously new.

There was a calming effect about being back in the city, something that had gripped at her the moment she saw the skyscrapers and the lights as she drove into the city limits. It surprised her how much she had missed the city, the busyness of it and the people. Sure, it wasn't exactly the _best_ city, but she doubted that there was perfect city out there without crime or rude people. She still needed to visit an Ammunation, which was, despite being the reason she left for Los Santos, the last thing on her list of things she wanted to do.

At least she got this out of the way, she still needed to visit Catherine and she knew that her sister wouldn't let her leave without some sort of an argument. It was odd, hearing her sister telling her to leave the drug scene after many years of Sam telling her the very same thing. Catherine may have been a hypocrite, but she was right at the same time. Though, Sam hated to admit it, but there was part of her, deep down, that _liked_ being put on the edge. Sam didn't like being stressed out, but she liked having an edge to her usual life.

_Could have taken up hiking or some martial art. Selling drugs down in Blaine County is just reckless, even if my part is only flying a plane. _

Though, her part _wasn't_ just flying a plane every now and then. There would be no need for Trevor to send her up to Los Santos to learn how to shoot a gun if all he wanted her to do was fly planes. He wouldn't have made such a big deal about her not accompanying him on some sort of ego boost slaughter if she was just an extra pilot to him.

_Fuck me..._Sam thought to herself as she placed her hands on her hips and looked at the carpet under her feet. She could hear muffled foot falls coming her way, Sam lifting her head up in time to see the young teen pause at the entrance to the hallway, giving her a smile and wave.

"Hey, Auntie," he said, Sam raised her eyebrow at him as her father came up behind him, Eli glanced back at him as he brushed past.

"What? I come all the way up here for an awkward wave?" Sam asked, Eli giving her a grin in return as he walked towards her. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders as he gave her a tight hug, ruffling his black hair with her free hand. Eli pulled back, glancing over at his grandfather, who sat down in a chair in the living room and seemed to be studying Sam. While it was nice to be back, to give her nephew a hug, it was also very awkward for a reason that Sam knew all to well.

Her father knew something was up. He _always_ knew.

"I've got homework I need to do," Eli said quickly, "you said you were staying for a few days? Maybe we can watch a movie or something. My friend let me borrow that newly released movie, _Meltdown_, said it was stupid, but worth a watch."

"Sounds like a plan, buddy," Sam said with a nod, Eli giving her another grin before he disappeared down the hallway.

"He's been off of school for a week..." Sam said after a few moments, giving her father a confused look. He gave her one of his rare smiles, accompanied with an even rarer chuckle. Sam couldn't help but notice that he looked older than before, the wrinkles on his face seeming more prominent when he smiled. He was thinner, lankier than when he was younger, from what she could remember, his hair littered with grey after giving up on dyeing it.

"He knows that I wanted to speak with you," he said, the smile fading on his face, "sit down for a bit, it was probably a long drive from Blaine County."

Sam paused, a surprised look crossed her face as she sat down on the couch, "How did you...?"

"Your sister called," her father said, looking her in the eye. Sam's breath caught, wondering if Catherine had told him everything she had told her. Anger started to crop up, her finger's tightening into the worn leather of the couch as she sighed.

_I fucking knew it was a bad idea to tell her that shit, _she thought to herself, _she might have fucked everything up. _

"She said you got a job down in Paleto Bay," her father continued, leaning forward slightly, "why didn't you tell us that you were going down there? Why the secrecy?"

"B-Because I'm working for a not very well established company," Sam said, feeling relieved, "it could fall out from under me, I didn't want to worry you or Eli, so I decided to be vague."

Her father nodded, leaning back with a sigh, "While I feel that you might be restricting yourself by going all the way out there, there is no need to be so damn mysterious about it. Though, there is something else going on, isn't there? You look like you haven't slept in days."

"It's just homesickness," Sam said, "it's a change and I miss Los Santos. I'm experiencing a small bout of insomnia. It'll pass."

Her father nodded, accepting that, though he looked like he wanted to press further. Though, instead he just stood from the chair, running a hand through his hair.

"Catherine wants you to see her, doesn't she?" he asked after a few moments, Sam glancing up at him with a puzzled expression.

"She does, yeah," Sam said with a nod, "I called her and told her about the job because I thought she wouldn't tell you. Though, obviously, I guess I was wrong."

"What does she want to see you for?" her father asked, turning to face her, "You two haven't talked in a number of months, it seems odd she would want to see you so suddenly."

"Sisterly bonding?" Sam suggested with a shrug, fiddling with her thumbs. Her father shot her a knowing look, Sam understood what he was going to ask next. She sighed, standing from the couch and approached him.

"I know, it seems odd that she wants to see me again, but she hasn't mentioned Eli in the sense of wanting to know him. Hell, she said that he should just view me as his mother...not that she doesn't feel guilty about that."

"Well, if it does come up, you know that I will always have your side-"

"You say that like she is still going out every night and getting shitfaced," Sam snapped, narrowing her eyes, "she's been clean for a good year now, apparently. Got herself a nice apartment in the city, working at a studio. She's doing good for herself, I wouldn't be against Eli meeting her. She's your daughter, too, maybe you should make an attempt to rekindle with her. She's as awkward about you as you are about her, it's not healthy."

"I'll talk to Catherine when I am ready to," her father replied, "I just can't seem to forget the fact that she left you with the biggest task while she continued with her _lifestyle_."

"I'm not going to lie, Eli was better off because of it. I can't be angry at her for making a good choice. I have some things to do, but I'll come and see Eli in a day or so. Please, don't worry about Catherine, she's attempting to right wrongs or something."

"I'll choose to believe that when I see something come out of it," her father muttered, Sam watching him leave the room as she headed towards the front door herself. She sighed, knowing that Catherine was working, so it left her with only one thing to do.

* * *

Evening finally arrived over Los Santos, Sam driving through traffic towards Catherine's apartment. There was a pistol resting inside the glove compartment of her car, resting up against the bag shoved inside there. She was starting to believe that if she wanted to gather items of shame or anxiety, the best place to put them was the glove compartment. Carrying around the drugs, as small as it was, left her agitated about her inability to toss them away. Every police siren made her tense, even if she had no reason to do so.

_Maybe Catherine will take them, force me to flush them or something, _she thought to herself as she was pulling up to the right address. Though, she felt less agitated about the gun. While it took a little getting used to, she _might_ just be able to enjoy shooting. Though, she doubted that the wooden targets of the shooting range would be the things she would be shooting up in Sandy Shores.

Sam had to toy with the idea of actually shooting someone.

She shook her head, gripping the wheel tighter. _I'm flying planes for him, that's it. That's fucking it. _

_I hope..._

As she pulled into an empty space outside the apartment building, Sam sat and looked down at her hands. She was a little nervous to visit her sister, even if she told her that she was in the city and was coming to see her. It was the confrontation that was sure to follow, where she would have to have the answers to questions that Sam couldn't really bring herself to ask. Like why she wasn't just planning on staying in the city. Why she was going to the shooting range, and would most likely continue to do so for the rest of the week.

With a sigh, she shut off her car and stepped outside, glancing up at the building. It looked nice, she was expecting something more...run down. When Catherine said she had been doing good, she wasn't lying. She made her way inside, getting into the elevator and made her way up to her sister's level. She held onto the mental bar inside the elevator, looking up at the top of the elevator as it continued to rise. Her heart was beating harshly in her chest, much more so than when she first arrived at her father's home when she first arrived, which was saying _something_.

She had always thought that the most intimidating and frightening person she would even encounter would be her father, though with the people and situations she had been finding herself in seemed to make him look more watered down.

The elevator stopped with the light ding, Sam stepping outside and walked down the hall. She kept repeating the number of her sister's apartment in her head, reading the growing numbers as she passed doors. She paused once she found her sister's, taking a steadying breath as she lifted her hand to knock. There was really no reason to be so worked up, Catherine was irritated with her, but she wouldn't _hurt_ her.

Los Santos was her home, she could be safe in the city.

Sam stepped back once she was done knocking, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she waited. She could hear movement behind the door before it was pulled open, a middle-aged woman peering out as a grin grew on her face.

"Sam," Catherine said, pulling her into a tight embrace, "I am _so_ relieved that you are here."

"I've only been gone a week, but I missed the city," Sam said with a small smile, patting her sister on the back before pulling back, "Wow, you look..."

"Clean?" Catherine supplied, stepping aside as she ran a hand through her black hair, something that Sam had recognized on Eli, though there was an unfamiliarity to his looks as well, from his father. He wasn't exactly a common topic with Eli or Catherine, not that the teen didn't wonder sometimes. Sam wished she had an answer for him, but Catherine was the only one who knew. Though, while Eli's father remained in the topics that she wasn't allowed to bring up, he remained a mystery.

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam said, walking into the apartment.

"You _guess so?_" Catherine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You look clean," Sam said with an awkward grin, "I'm happy for you."

"So..." Catherine began, closing the door behind Sam as the younger sibling looked around the apartment, "does you showing up at my doorstep mean you are staying?"

"I..." Sam started, pausing as she crossed her arms, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you _don't know_?" Catherine asked, tilting her head and narrowed her eyes, "it's not exactly a complicated question, Sam."

"No, but it's a fucking complicated situation," Sam snapped, shaking her head as she started to pace the floor slightly, "could have at least let me get comfortable before jumping into this conversation."

"You're always making up excuses, even if the solutions to your problems are very simple. You're already here, aren't you?"

"Not by my own choice," Sam said, "as much as I like being back. I was sent up here to learn how to shoot a gun. I have to be back in Sandy Shores by the end of the week."

"Why would you need to shoot a gun?" Catherine asked, her voice unsure. Her eyebrows were pulled together, the frown on her face deepening as she approached her.

"I'm not sure what he wants me to do with it," Sam muttered, rubbing her cheek, "but I imagine it won't be for good. Or, at least, what _my_ version of good is."

"You need to get yourself out of this situation, Sam," Catherine said, her eyes wide and voice raised slightly, "you shouldn't have even gotten yourself into it in the first place!"

"It'll probably be tough to just leave now," Sam muttered, shaking her head, "I may not now him very well, but I'm not sure if my boss wouldn't come after me if we ran into each other on the street if I just up and left."

"He's in Sandy Shores, right? What reason would he have to be up in Los Santos?" Catherine asked, letting out a sigh, "You don't need to keep going back to this guy. I'll get you a decent paying job. You want to fly, I can probably land you a job at the studio. You can stay here, both you and Eli if it comes down to it."

"What exactly do you even do at the studio?" Sam asked, Catherine letting out a sigh.

"I'm a high school dropout," she said, "I'm lucky I got the job I did, even if it's just handing out coffee to some self-righteous actor or actress. You know how to fly, though. You could get some aerial shots for a movie."

"You think I haven't looked everywhere first?" Sam snapped, "I'm aware I could work for your studio, doesn't mean they will fucking accept me. I'm only doing this for a couple months, just until I get enough money so I won't have to live with you or our father. I agreed knowing all too well what I was getting into, and I'll have to stand by my decision until..."

"Until what?" Catherine snapped, stepping closer to her as she started to list off situations, "Until you get a fucking addiction? Die in a plane crash because of some pissed off opponents of your '_boss_'? Get knocked up by some meth head?"

"That's fucking _rich_ coming from _you_," Sam snapped, Catherine's face falling as she stepped back and turned. She crossed her arms tightly, as if hugging herself, as she paced the length of the floor above her living area. She tapped her fingers against her arm, shaking her head.

"Fuck you," she said after a few moments, "What do you think staying in this situation makes you? _Loyal_? Sam, you're so fucking scared of what people will think of you that you just can't stand up for yourself, even if not doing so will _destroy your life_. If you're so idiotic that you want to continue doing what you are doing, _to see where it goes_, then...I'm coming with you."

"No, no you're not," Sam stated, "I am being an idiot, I agree, so let me be one by myself. That way, my mistakes _stay_ my own."

"You'll be effecting everybody," Catherine said, shaking her head, "Eli, Dad, me, yourself. _Especially_ yourself. You're being fucking stupid, you know that?"

"I heard it's a simpler lifestyle," Sam muttered, shaking her head.

"You like it, don't you?"

"Like what?"

"The drugs, illegal activity," Catherine said, her voice somewhat soft, "I understand, I really do. You had always been '_Daddy's Little Girl_', if he looked down on something, so did you. If he told you that you weren't allowed to do something, you didn't do it. Now, you're doing this and it probably thrills you, deep down. Whatever mid-life crisis that you are going through, I hope you get your shit sorted out before life sorts it out for you."

"I'm not having a mid-life crisis, I'm doing this for money," Sam said, "it's really funny, seeing as I probably said everything you are saying to me right now at some point to you. I'm doing this for-"

"If you fucking loved Eli, _truly_ fucking loved him, you wouldn't be doing this," Catherine snapped, narrowing her eyes and curling her lip at her, "I really thought you had grown some common sense, but I see that you didn't. As I said, if you are so determined to see this whole thing play out, then I'm going to watch it with you. At least _someone_ will have your back out there, someone to pull you up when you hit the bottom. You think you're _boss_ or _associates_ will do that for you? I assure you, I might have been able to see my own son grow up if someone had been there for me earlier."

"You'll just get yourself killed-"

"Probably not before you do."

"You're not coming with me! You just got yourself picked up, why would you want to knock yourself back down again?" Sam shouted, turning to look at her fully.

"Because, I'm your older sister," Catherine said, "I'll live in a trailer, I'll-"

"What? Blow up meth labs? Sell drugs? Fly planes with me?" Sam snapped, shaking her head, "Stay in Los Santos, Catherine. Call Dad, ask to meet Eli. Let me make a mess of my life, as you say."

"So, that's it then?" Catherine demanded, "You'll just let your life fall to shambles? You'll lose Eli, Dad, a chance at a good life with a good paying and _safe_ job? Why?"

"I don't know," Sam muttered, looking down at the floor, "maybe I'm just stupid."

"Yeah, you are fucking stupid. I'm coming with you to Sandy Shores, I'm going to help you get out of this."

"Good fucking luck," Sam muttered, "why bother? I gave up on you with your addiction."

"Because I was selfish and handed my own son over to you so I could continue to do what I was doing. I don't want that to happen to you," Catherine said, rubbing her mouth slightly as a distant look crossed her face, "Have you taken anything yet?"

"No," Sam said, placing her hands on her hips as she paused. Catherine raised a dark eyebrow at her, crossing her arms.

"_But_?"

"I have a bag of drugs in my car," Sam admitted, "it was payment for a job, apparently. I haven't taken any of it, though I have thought..."

"See?" Catherine said, spreading her arms out, "Sam, you're too timid. You let people control you, they tell you what is right, and even if you _know_ it is wrong, it won't stop you from attempting to see their logic. Fuck, you're going to getting neck deep in shit if you keep walking further into it. By then, it might be too difficult for someone to pull you out of it. Leave while you still can. Just don't go back."

"I'm scared, Cath," Sam said, looking back up at her. "I'm _terrified_ to stand up to him, and I'll be living the rest of my days looking behind me."

"Who is this guy?"

Sam paused, letting out a sigh as she ran a hand through her dark hair, "Trevor Philips."

Catherine frowned, her eyebrows pulling together slightly as she looked down at the floor. "I've heard that name before, though from your reaction, what I heard seems to match up. Shit, Sam, how did you even...?"

"Still want to go back to Sandy Shores with me?" Sam asked sarcastically, shaking her head, "That's why I am scared to just leave. I figure I could just wait until he loses use for me and then I'll walk."

"How long will _that_ take?" Catherine snapped, "He's obviously intimidated you enough to make you fear leaving him. Honestly, I'm waiting for some 'he hits me because he loves me' bullshit, alright? Get the fuck out of there. Put a bullet in his head yourself if you have to, but...I don't even know."

"Look, I need to go. Let me think, I'll...see you later or something," Sam muttered, walking towards the front door again. She paused, glancing back at her sister, "You keep your fucking mouth shut about this, especially to Dad, alright? I got him believing I am working for some upstarting company in Paleto Bay, and it stays that way."

"I won't tell him anything," Catherine said, raising her hands slightly, "though, I am still going with you."

"Give it a fucking rest!" Sam shouted, pointing at her sister, "Keep out of my business. I'll get myself out of this, you deal with your own shit."

"I-"

"I'm leaving, I need to be alone for a bit," Sam said, ending the conversation. She pulled open the front door and shut it behind her as she stepped out into the hall. A deep sigh found its way out of her, Sam placing a hand on her forehead.

There was no way she was going to let her sister be around Trevor, not after everything that happened with Catherine and how she finally managed to turn around. Sam was going to let fear pull her down, but she wasn't going to let Catherine go down with her.


End file.
